


Heart of a Beast

by JaneQuotes



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dragons, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-07
Updated: 2019-02-07
Packaged: 2019-10-23 21:42:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17691593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JaneQuotes/pseuds/JaneQuotes
Summary: Viktor is a dedicated, talented knight of Prix, but when a fight with a dragon leaves him heavily wounded, he's rescued by a cave-dwelling recluse named Yuuri.This one encounter sets them on a course of events that not only changes their lives, but the cursed fate of Prix.





	Heart of a Beast

**Author's Note:**

> Oh gosh, I am so excited for this! I love dragons, they're my fave animal, and now I get to bring that love to you guys! This idea has been rattling around in my head for a while, and now I'm finally bringing it to the light. 
> 
> This has been fully outlined, and I'm currently writing it out, piece by piece. Updates will be sporadic, but there will be updates! (I'm doubling this as a school assignment, so I will definitely be writing more. (If I start slacking, don't be afraid to yell at me in the comments, I'm always better at doing things for other people.))
> 
> Without further ado~

Viktor Popovich, knight of Prix, is in quite the dilemma. 

He had been hiking through the snowy Siber Woods near Hasetsu, chasing after rumors of dragon sightings in the area. Most of the tales had no weight to them, just flights of fancy men and women recited in taverns to enthrall others who would listen. But one story in particular, from a grizzled old man, was of a fire red dragon, the size of a shed, eating on the carcass of a deer, bones and all. It was unlike the others in that man had not tried to engage with the beast, simply running for his life. So out Viktor went to hunt, as was his duty as a knight.

Still, he wasn't expecting to find a dragon, and was dressed to keep warm, not for a fight; a sweater over a tunic, leather trousers, and boots with thick socks.

He hadn't really been paying attention, too happy to enjoy some peace and quiet for once, and as a result, when he saw the dragon, it had already caught his scent.

As tall as a house and bright purple, it's stalking towards him, dark eyes blazing with killing intent. Viktor hastily pulls his two-handed sword out, pointing it at the beast. All is still for a few, precious moments, and then it lunges, swiping at Viktor with talons sharper than his sword, drawing blood where they connect with flesh. Before Viktor can shove the blasted thing back, it sinks its teeth into his arm, drawing a cry of pain from his lips.

He wrenches himself away, panting and cursing the demon. His arm is bleeding profusely, dripping onto the pristine snow, staining it red. He raises his sword, jabbing it at the dragon, managing to nick its neck, drawing a bead of black blood. It growls, low and menacing, before launching itself back at Viktor. 

The two of them tangle together, Viktor swinging his sword to deflect every blow of the talons, coming inches from his face and chest. He lands a few good hits, the red staining the snow mixing in their scuffle. The fowl beast swipes at him with its tail, hitting him hard on his leg. Viktor howls as he feels a sickening crunch, the broken limb giving out.

The dragon has stepped back now, watching Viktor with an almost calculating gaze, if it had intelligence beyond killing instinct. When Viktor attempts to stand back up, it roars, loud and deafening, sending birds in trees nearby fleeing. Viktor falls once more to his knees, pain lancing through his leg and spine. 

He grits his teeth, and stands, ignoring the flash of white he sees in favor of raising his sword again, the arm that was bitten hanging uselessly at his side.

The dragon turns its head, staring at some unseen thing to Viktor's right. It's his chance to slay the distracted beast, but before he can move, a man is running forward.

He freezes upon seeing the dragon and Viktor. His eyes dart back and forth, seeming unsure of what to do. But then he's in front of Viktor, yanking his sword away, and pointing it at the dragon. 

The creature eyes the two of them, before giving a snort and leaping into the air, powerful wings flinging snow into the air, and sending it high into the sky.

Viktor collapses, adrenaline no longer letting him ignore the pain spiking into his leg. 

The man drops the sword, turning to Viktor.

"Oh gods, are you okay?" he asks, voice high and panicked, his hands moving as if he has no idea where to put them. Viktor groans in response, mind too muddled to do anything but. "Um, if you can get up, I can take you to my home. I have supplies there to tend to your injuries. It's not far, maybe half a league. We really need to get you there fast, or you might bleed out, and I really would rather not have that on my conscious."

Viktor lets out a mirthless laugh at the man's ramblings, then moaning when it agitates his leg. The man seems to take it as a yes, because his arms move to under Viktor's armpits, attempting to lift him. It's clear that strength is not his strong suit, but Viktor can't fault him for trying, even as his arm screams.

Viktor inhales sharply, then puts weight onto his uninjured leg, leaning heavily on the man. Together, they manage to get Viktor upright, standing on one leg and propped against the smaller man, his uninjured arm wrapped around his shoulders. 

They begin to shuffle farther into the woods, stopping every few minutes for Viktor to get his breath back. It's slow going and torturous, every step sending pain jolting up his spine. The smaller man says nothing every time Viktor tips, losing his balance and putting nearly all of his weight onto him. He simply holds on, and waits for Viktor to correct himself.

Soon, the trees begin to thin, and Viktor realizes that they're heading towards the mountains, nearly upon them now. He means to say something, but by the expression the man wears, confident and piercing, he decides to keep quiet.

After nearly an hour of trekking through the snow, they make it to a wall of solid rock, climbing high into the sky. The man stears them to follow the wall, another five minutes, before stopping just outside of a cave entrance.

Viktor peers in, seeing nothing but gaping darkness. Surely the man doesn't live in a  _ cave _ ? Especially not in the dragon-infested Infernus Peaks.

The man takes a step forward, but halts when Viktor doesn't move.   
  
"Is something wrong?" he asks, brows furrowed in confusion.

"Do you really live in a cave?" Viktor answers back, voice betraying how nervous the idea makes him. "In Infernus Peaks?"

"Ah, I can assure you that it's safe, even from dragons."

Viktor still isn't sure, but follows anyway. Only a few steps inside, and a door presents itself. The man pulls it open and reveals a rather homey looking cave, lit by candles and lanterns. Warmer than he would have thought, it's rectangular in shape, and quite big, enough to fit a family of four or five comfortably. Along the right side are two wooden tables, papers and writing utensils stern over the surfaces, a stool in front of each, and just beyond are shelves carved into the rock, books stacked neatly in them. To the left is a large pile of blankets and pillows, all different sorts of materials, that seemed to make up the bed. Above the bed, a large detailed map of Prix covers the wall, colored pins placed all over. Beyond that, more shelves are carved into the wall, jars containing an assortment of plants, herbs, and other oddities lined up nicely inside them. Tucked in the corner is a chest, with what Viktor assumes is filled with clothing. Against the back wall is a long, skinny table, with an oven on the right end. Above again are carved shelves, filled with dishes and cutlery, and jars of what looks like soups and different types of dried noodles. A few feet in front of the table is another table, this one large and short, made for kneeling at and far too big for just one person. In the other corner, to the right of the oven, is another passage, leading farther into the mountain. In the ceiling above the only empty space in the cave is a hole, no wider than Viktor's shoulders, twisting away into darkness.

The man leads Viktor to the short table, gently lowering him to sit on the wood. He bustles about, pulling down plant jars from Viktor's right, grabbing a couple of books from his left, bowls and utensils from behind. The man places them on the table next to Viktor, then kneels and begins to pull herbs out, mixing and mashing them together in bowls. 

It gives Viktor time to look over the man. He looks rather charming, although not the prettiest Viktor has seen, but cute, in a reserved kind of way. His face is soft, eyebrows and thin mouth pinched in concentration. His nose is small, button-like, and his eyes are a chocolate brown, skin golden in the candlelight. His figure is slightly rounded and curved, as if he never quite shook the fat from infantry. His hands are calloused from hard work, fingers deft and quick in their motions. He's wearing a robe of some sorts, the sleeves long. A sash wraps around his chest and waist, holding the piece together. The pattern is floral, a light, subtle blue that compliments his darker complexion. Viktor realizes that he saw many people back in Hasetsu wearing similar clothing. 

"Yuuri," the man says suddenly without looking up from what he's doing. 

"Pardon?" Viktor asks, confused as to what the man is telling him.   
  
"My name is Yuuri," he says, with a glance up at Viktor's face.

"Ah. I'm Viktor. Viktor Popovich." There's a flicker of something on the man's, Yuuri's, face, almost like he recognized the name. Viktor wouldn't be surprised. His father is one of the Great Slayers, Viktor following in his footsteps.

They're silent for a few minutes, Yuuri mixing a thick, green paste while Viktor watches. Finally, Yuuri nods and sets the bowl aside. He turns to face Viktor.

"Uh, can you take your shirt off, please?" Yuuri asks, cheeks pinking as he gazes over Viktor's shoulder. Viktor smirks, before moving to pull his sweater off, only to hiss in pain as the gashes in his arm are stretched. 

"Sorry! I forgot. Here, let me." Yuuri starts to tug and pull at the sweater, stopping and readjusting, murmuring an apology, every time Viktor gives any indication of pain.

Finally, Viktor can't take it. "Just cut it off!" he exclaims.

Yuuri looks startled, and then sheepish. "Sorry." He moves to get a knife from the kitchen area. Viktor is starting to realize that this man apologizes quite a lot.

Soon the sweater and tunic are in rags on the floor, Viktor silently mourning their loss as he stares at them. 

Yuuri picks the bowl with the green paste back up, scooping some onto his fingers.

"This will probably sting a little," he says, before rubbing the paste over the bites on Viktor's arm. He hisses as the cool semi-liquid makes contact with his irritated skin, stinging more than "a little."

Soon though, the heat of pain begins to dissipate, giving way to a pleasant numbness. Viktor gives a sigh of relief at having one of his bigger wounds soothed. His leg is starting to remind Viktor of its presence now, the pain dull and throbbing with his heartbeat. 

Yuuri moves away, back to his herb shelves, and grabs some strips of plain cloth from behind a jar containing what looks like dead bugs. He sets about wrapping up the paste-covered gashes, making sure that the cloth is wrapped tightly to keep the paste from dripping out, but loose enough that it won't stop blood from flowing to the rest of Viktor's hand. Yuuri does it with a precision that speaks of experience and practice. 

When his arm is securely bandaged, Yuuri goes to rub paste over any and all cuts and lacerations on his torso. There's a faint blush on Yuuri's cheeks as his hand moves over Viktor's chest, causing Viktor to smile. He knows what he looks like, years of training and battle toning his body to peak excellence. Once he's done with that, Yuuri begins to wrap more cloth around and over Viktor, to keep the paste on the wounds.

Yuuri steps back, running his eyes over Viktor, seeming to assess his work. When his gaze lands on Viktor's leg, stretched out at an awkward angle so as to disturb it as little as possible, he winces. 

Yuuri mutters to himself, grabs a bowl, then opens the door and goes outside, leaving Viktor alone since he was first found. He doesn't know what to do with himself, made more annoying by the fact that he can't get up to look around more closely. So he sits in silence, waiting for Yuuri to come back, slightly surprised that he actually misses the man.

It's only a few minutes, but it feels like longer when Yuuri walks back in, some sticks of differing lengths and thickness in his hand, and the bowl full of snow. He dumps the sticks on the table, and sets the bowl down so as not to spill it, then straightens up.

"Look, I promise I'm not some pervert, but you're going to need to take your pants off too," Yuuri states quickly, red reaching all the way to his ears, gaze locked firmly away from Viktor.

It's cute, and Viktor can't help but tease back.

"I'm afraid you'll need to take me on a date before you can take my trousers off, Yuuri," Viktor drawls, schooling his features into something austere. It's a serious struggle to keep his lips from twitching upwards.

Yuuri squeaks, covering his face with his hands. 

"I'm sorry, but I really need to set your leg so it will heal properly, and I can't do that with your pants on!" he explains in a rush, voice slightly muffled by his fingers.

Viktor laughs, loud and boisterous, and it feels  _ good _ . He hasn't had a proper laugh since he can't even remember, and to think he only met this man hours ago. 

Yuuri drops his hands away from his face, still red, features set in determination. 

"You're teasing me," he states, almost sounding affronted, but Viktor can see a twinkle in his eyes. It's refreshing, nice to have someone who will let Viktor tease and poke fun at them, without it being something they feel like they must do because of duty or such.

"You made it too easy," Viktor rebuttals, chuckling. He lets it fade into an easy grin.

Yuuri's mouth twitches, almost a smile, before he walks forward, face serious again.

"Joking aside, we really do need to get your leg set," he says as he kneels in front of Viktor, reaching for the bowl of snow, slightly melted now. Yuuri grabs a handful of the powder, then begins to crunch it in his hands, forming a ball of packed snow. He raises an eyebrow, and Viktor gets the message; he tugs at the waist of his pants, down his legs, and Yuuri has to help him when they get to his knees. He can feel his cheeks heat, just a little, at being so poorly covered in just braies. 

The break isn't bad, not by a long shot. The only indication that it's broken is how swollen his leg has gotten, nearly twice the size it normally is, and red as a tomato. He's quite lucky no skin was broken as well.

Yuuri looks up at Viktor, expression a bit sorry, then presses the snow to Viktor's swollen leg. He cries out, pain turning from dull and throbbing to sharp and pulsing. He breathes through it as Yuuri moves the cold ball around his leg, trying to get the swelling to go down. Viktor digs his nails into the table, no doubt leaving permanent indents in the wood. When the snow in his hands becomes to wet and soft, Yuuri discards it into an empty bowl on the table, then grabs another handful and packs it into a ball, repeating the process. 

This continues for some time, Viktor doing his best to keep from crying out again, Yuuri wincing whenever Viktor hisses or moans at the pain. Soon, Viktor actually notices that the swelling has gone down considerably, his skin now purple and yellow.

Yuuri drops the last of the melting snow into the bowl, and reaches for a stick. He compares it to Viktor's leg, and then sets it aside, reaching for another. He does this with all of the wood he brought in, before seeming to make his selection.

"Viktor," Yuuri says softly, bringing his attention to Yuuri's face. "I need to touch your leg, to see where it's broken and if I need to move the bone back into place. You can can lie back on the table so you can't see, if you want. It might help take the edge off." His eyes are pleading and gentle, as if to offset what he is about to do.

Viktor nods his assent, lying back and letting his leg relax. He closes his eyes, breathing in deep and letting it out slowly. He inhales sharply at the lance of pain as Yuuri begins to poke and prod at his leg. Cool fingers run up and down his calves, firm in their pressing. Viktor whimpers as the begin to press harder and hears a murmured "sorry" in response. The man really does apologize too much.

Yuuri grips at his leg with both hands, the only warning Viktor gets before he twists his leg. Viktor screams, vision whiting out. The pain is cutting, stabbing at every part of him. It doesn't seem to stop, every pound of his heart sending agony lancing up and down his spine. As the pain finally begins to fade to a throb, and his eyes begin to see more than one color, Viktor realizes that he's crying and babbling nonsense, Yuuri hovered over him, face screwed in concern and sympathy.

"I'm so sorry, I thought it would be better if I just did it!" he blurts, voice slightly panicked. 

Viktor groans, then pushes himself up to sit. "It's okay," he pants out, the simple action of sitting up winding him. "Keep going."

Yuuri looks uncertain, but kneels back down, grabbing some cloth and wrapping it around Viktor's calf. He then picks up the sticks he selected from earlier. He places one parallel on one side of Viktor's leg, and reaches to grab some cloth strips. He looks down at his hands, both occupied. He looks back up at Viktor, and gives him a sheepish grin.

"Would you mind holding onto the splint?" he asks, gesturing to the stick against Viktor's leg. Viktor nods, and reaches down to keep the stick against his leg. 

Yuuri picks up the other stick, and places it on the other side of his leg, again gesturing for Viktor to hold onto it. He then begins to wrap the cloth around his leg, tight and restricting, around and around until Viktor's leg is completely covered, the splint keeping his leg from twisting. Yuuri stands, and holds his hands out for Viktor to grab. Yuuri hoists Viktor to his feet, keeping him steady as he gets his balance back. 

The splint is strong, the sticks extending past his knees and down to his ankles. Yuuri made sure to wrap it so that he could still bend his leg, but not his foot. Viktor tests it, pleased to find that the most pain he feels is a dull throb, a faint echo of what it was minutes ago. 

Yuuri frowns, stepping back to watch Viktor move about. He hobbles horribly, but he can walk, so Viktor counts it as a win.

"You'll need to stay here until you heal," Yuuri says, frown deepening. "It's nearly a day's journey to Hasetsu, but it would take much longer if we attempted it with your leg the way it is, and the cold will do you no favors if we sleep outside." 

Viktor nods in agreement, a bit happy at the prospect of staying with Yuuri for a while longer. He has never met anyone quite like Yuuri, quiet and reserved, a soft quality about him that is starting to pull Viktor in. 

"Thank you," Viktor responds, giving Yuuri a genuine smile.

"You're welcome," Yuuri smiles back, cheeks reddening slightly. 

**(^.=.^) (^.=.^) (^.=.^)**

Yuuri helps Viktor dress, and then to his pile of blankets, where Viktor is surprised to learn that underneath all of the fabric is a thin mattress, stuffed not with straw as is common, but sheeps' wool. 

"You become stranger by the minute, Yuuri," Viktor comments from where he now lies. "Although if I am resting here, where will you sleep?"

Yuuri snatches a couple of the bigger blankets, as well as a pillow. "On the floor is no problem," he replies, moving to lay a blanket down. 

Viktor frowns. "Is lying with me so unappealing?" He knows how the words sound, but doesn't care when Yuuri straightens and sputters.

"W-what? No no, we just met, and I didn't want to presume…" he trails off and looks away, cheeks a delicious berry red.

Viktor laughs, twice in one day. "Darling, I was teasing. I wouldn't mind sharing a bed, but if you feel more comfortable away from me, I will not be offended." He gives Yuuri an easy, welcoming smile, once so hard to put on in front of others.

Yuuri doesn't say anything for a few minutes, standing and seeming to mull over his options. Viktor starts to worry as the seconds tick by that he overstepped, and Yuuri is just thinking of ways to politely kick him out.

Finally, Yuuri sighs, before scooping the blanket back off the floor. He turns and strides over to where Viktor lays, and drops it all unceremoniously onto Viktor. 

"I have to warn you," Yuuri states, sitting on the edge of the bed, "I tend to move around a lot. Don't blame me if you wind up with a broken nose come morning. Now scoot over, I can't lie down with you in the middle."

Viktor grins, big and goofy and showing all of his teeth, shifting as well as he can with a broken leg and wrapped up torso. It takes some shuffling, but soon, the two of them are lying side by side, Viktor on his back and Yuuri on his side. 

For a fleeting, painful moment, Viktor wants to lean over and kiss Yuuri, for his kindness and love that he's shown a stranger, but knows that it would likely only scare Yuuri, for all of his shyness. He is likely a recluse for a reason, and even if he seemed to appreciate Viktor's body, that doesn't mean he would welcome any advances.

So Viktor smiles, whispers a good night, and closes his eyes, keeping the replied "sleep well, Viktor" tucked into a safe, small corner of his heart.

**Author's Note:**

> Sooo, what did you think? ^-^
> 
> Thank you so much for reading, and I hope you stick around to see where these two take us!


End file.
